Poems

The poem always was for me the form of expression of feelings. In two-three stanzas finds room much – the overflowing emotions asking on will of thought, impetuous passion. Not having possibility to give vent to this all on a paper, for a long time would descend suma from an overabundance of feelings. And so – anything, it was possible to consult. Improbably it would be desirable, not spending, certainly, not deserved analogies to repeat thereupon Sergey Yesenin's words: «as to other autobiographical data, - they in my verses».

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The different

I feel myself shljushkoj.
However, so it all also is.
I have got itself in a trap,
Zaglotnuv, as nazhivku, flattery.
We do not become close dushoju
We are various as paradise and a hell.
I live unearthly toskoju,
You – krushenem terrestrial barriers.
I am guilty, that so hurried.
From zhelanja has become crazy.
Has not reflected, has not solved –
On a current of feelings floated.
We pass each other by:
Souls do not see we through eyes.
I hoped to become liked –
Became the maid on half an hour.

14.03.05

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13.04.2007 22:40 it something!!!!!!!! Simply super so vitally.......


01.05.2007 18:36 you read as a knife on heart... Very fine...
Katjusha


17.11.2007 23:55 it is healthy....
MARGO


17.01.2008 15:35 it is very autobiographical... Has touched has amazed, already murashki on a skin

Katerina


© Mashkova Irina Vladimirovna, 2007
info@irina.freetzi.com

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